


All the things you don't say

by DarthWriter



Series: A long way toward making you mine [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Artist Steve Rogers, Bittersweet Ending, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Steve Rogers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Miscommunication, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Reconciliation, Relationship Problems, Romantic Fluff, Tony Stark Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:02:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26303839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthWriter/pseuds/DarthWriter
Summary: Tony discovers something about Steve's past
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: A long way toward making you mine [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1898233
Comments: 19
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

The hot water felt so good on his skin, slowly awakening all the cells in his numb body, it was exhilarating. Steve had taken a particularly long shower this morning and the heat was making him feel dizzy now. He glanced at his reflection while he tied a huge towel around his thin waist, his abused sensitive skin was all red and puffy. He regretted nothing. Not even the love bite cradled in the crook of his neck, reminiscent of last night. An unwilling smile spread on his face as he looked away from the mirror, avoiding his own reflection and the shameful blush that had started to creep on his face.

His heart skipped a beat when he heard the inquisitive voice of his boyfriend downstairs. "Steve?" He cocked his head out of the bathroom door. "Can you come down a minute?" There was a sort of urgency in the tone, although his boyfriend sounded quite lighthearted, and he hurried down the stairs still naked underneath his towel.

Tony was in the living room, up and about, all dressed up for work. He was standing in his dark blue dress pants and his fitted white shirt that outlined his frame perfectly and tying his cufflinks with a charm and confidence that still did it for Steve. Had they had more time... His heart skipped again and he almost dropped his towel when he unconsciously brought a hand to his neck. Tony was so handsome in his work clothes that Steve had forgotten why he was downstairs, rivulets dripping down his chest, with only a towel to hide his modesty. 

"What is this about?" Tony asked, eyes fixed on the TV screen. His boyfriend hadn't turned around when he had come down, he kept staring at the screen with an amused fascination. His voice sounded chipper, curious, and something playful seemed to glimmer in his eyes.

Steve focused on the sound before adjusting his eyes to look at the blinding blue light of the screen.

_"I'm err... very excited to discover all of Steve Rogers' artistic talents. I've been a fan of his work from the very beginning and I'm eager to see more of it."_

_"I don't know much comic books but I've heard about his talents as a painter and I must say I'm very curious about it."_

_"Oh I was there, on my TV screen, when they finally officialized their relationship. I absolutely want to see that painting!"_

Steve had absolutely no idea what this was about. He looked at the screen. _"Steve Rogers is an amazing, eclectic and multitalented artist and the painting is absolutely outstanding. We are very proud today to be the first to exhibit this masterpiece."_ The caption read "MoMA curator."

_...information came out early this morning ...veryone's already pretty excited about it... Since the MoMA tweeted the news, all the social platforms have been invaded by the #nakedstark storm... Art-lovers and comic book fans alike seem all fired up.... And not to mention Tony Stark's growing fanbase and supporters....burning topic of conversation today..._

Steve was having a hard time focusing on what was being said, with the loud and accelerating beating of his heart. He glanced at his boyfriend, who glanced back at him, the corner of his mouth curled up into a sly smile.

"I have no idea." Steve whispered, freaking out a little bit. Although he did have an idea but how he ended up in this very real, very fucked-up situation, he had absolutely no knowledge of. 

_...The secret transaction apparently happened over a couple of months ago, in complete confidentiality... the buyer as well as the seller both wished to remain anonymous... The price hasn't been revealed yet but the rumors say that_ The Fallen Angel _might reach the top ten of most expensive paintings of all times. ... It's not the first time that the MoMA partners with private investors to acquire major pieces of art, however this is probably the first time that the model brings out as much fascination and enthusiasm as the artist... In a press release this morning, the first owner explains how she stumbled upon the alleged portrait. The discovery was quite atypical, as you'll see. Alison Random reports. Yes, indeed, Jessica M. was in her shrink's waiting room when she fell in love with the painting. "The artist was completely unknown then," she wrote. Frantic art-lover, she was already conscious of the artistic and emotional value of it but must of all, it was a case of love at first sight. "I couldn't describe how I felt," she wrote, "it was so powerful." She didn't care about the popularity of the artist at the time, she just wanted the painting at all costs, and she was ready to pay the high price for it. "It's only later, when I realized that Steve Rogers was actually famous in the comic book industry that I understood I might have acquired something more valuable than I thought. When I heard about his relationship with the heir of Stark Industries, I understood. Oh my god, I had a portrait of Tony Stark hanging in my lobby," she wrote. The resemblance is quite eerie, when you know. The painting was already an attraction for the few of their acquaintances who were lucky enough to contemplate it in their home. "Everyone of our guests was entranced when they saw the painting, each of them in different ways but all were as much fascinated as I was the first time I saw it..._

Steve felt shaken by an overwhelming shiver running up and down his spine. His chest was constricted, he heart was ready to explode and he could feel his cheeks burn with shame. He turned to Tony, Tony turned to him and they stared into each other's eyes for a long moment of silence. All kinds of emotions appeared on his boyfriend's face. Surprise, amusement, confusion, astonishment, mostly disconcertment. 

He glanced at the screen again and bit his bottom lip, smothering a chuckle. "This is how you bought this place, isn't it?" He said with an indecipherable smile. It sounded amused and bitter at the same time. "With a portrait of me?" The words were more of a statement than a real question.

Steve averted his eyes and pretended to look at the screen. "It was the portrait of an angel." Steve choked out. He felt Tony's gaze scorch his skin. 

Tony stared at him for a moment, unreadable, a glimpse of confusion in his eyes, and then his features softened. He smiled softly, beautifully. A bright and blissful smile that you could see mirrored in his eyes. 

"You're gonna be exhibited at the MoMA." He finally said with so much pride in his voice, Steve felt a twinge in his heart. "This is amazing."

Steve was still shaken, his entire body still shuddering. He felt hot and cold at the same time and a bead of sweat was dripping down his spine. He wiped a hand down his face and sighed, unable to acknowledge his own emotions at the moment.

"I wanna see that painting so badly." Tony said. He sounded cheerful and ecstatic and his eyes glimmered with pride.


	2. Chapter 2

Six weeks later, Tony had organized a private viewing at the MoMA the night before the opening to the public. It was supposed to be their night out, their first night out since the impromptu revelation, their first quality time spent together for over a week. He had pulled out all the stops. 

Steve blushed when Tony picked him up in a limo. That was probably to be expected, in hindsight, but Steve felt his heart waver, still. They had a table reservation at Le Bernardin afterwards, inside this time and in _public._ Not that it was a big deal—it _was_ —but since they were dating, their dates had been rather modest and discreet. Nothing official. Nothing...like _this._ After all this time it felt terrifying.

Happy had opened the door for him and Tony was waiting nonchalantly inside the car. His legs were crossed, his eyes mischievous, and he was gorgeous in his three pieces dark gray tuxedo. He held him a glass of brandy with a sly smile. He looked ecstatic. 

Steve climbed inside and took the drink, he needed it. He emptied it in one gulp and felt the alcohol rush to his head. A wave of warmth spread inside his entire body. Tony stared at him, smiling. He stared back, undressing him with his eyes. He felt a tremor in his jaw, a huge amount of self-control was needed not to crawl to him and strip him naked. Tony chuckled, staring at him sidelong, eyes glimmering wantonly in the dim light of the car. He was obviously having a great time messing with Steve.

The ride was fortunately short and Tony got out excitedly, jerky hands moving around like an illusionist. He was probably nervous, Steve thought. Steve was too, alcohol had helped though. He took Steve's hand and hurried them inside, talking non-stop. Steve felt out of it, with the constant buzzing in his head. It was as if everything was happening in slow-motion. He could only see his boyfriend's mouth opening and closing excitedly and the overly energetic movements of his hands. Part of him was still thinking about taking his clothes off, another part just wanted to kiss him, to shut him up.

Tony had been talking about seeing this painting for weeks, Steve had dreaded this moment. His boyfriend was way too enthusiastic, what would happen when he saw? They walked around in the museum, stopping from time to time to enjoy a few classics that Steve loved. Steve was warmly amazed to see that his boyfriend remembered all his favorites. He suspected Tony had purposely made a detour to make the moment last. Tony loved the anticipation. Or maybe he just needed to calm himself down. Either way, Steve appreciated. The high-pitched voice of his boyfriend somehow lulled him into a state of blissful comfort.

Tony's smile was huge when he tugged his arm toward their last stop. He was walking backward, literally pulling Steve inside the room. They stumbled, both losing balance because of the hurried movement. The light was brighter there and Tony laughed, making fun of Steve's clumsiness. Steve felt awkward and Tony's laugh was giving him warm fuzzies, and he was happy.

Tony straightened up though and he swiveled slowly on his feet to stand right in front of the painting. And finally, _finally,_ his eyes met those of the fallen angel.

He stopped talking.

He stopped talking. He stopped laughing. He stopped smiling. His hands both dropped down along his sides. He was standing there like a beautiful statue, cold and devoid of life, and just stared. He stared at the full-size naked body in front of him, showcased in the perfect lighting. He stared at the stained wing, the broken wing, and the pure white one. He stared at the blood, at the darkness and the pain that transpired from the painting. He stared at the desolation and despair you could barely perceive in the corner of his eye. He stared at the sorrow around him, the melancholy in his expression, the dark future his surroundings suggested, the depth of human misery. The painting hadn't left anyone indifferent but for everyone else it was just a fallen angel who happened to look like his boyfriend. For Steve though, and maybe for Tony too, it was much more than that, much more. For Steve it represented so much. Everything that had happened. All the pain, all the horror.

Anyone else would only see an angel with Tony's face but Tony... Tony was staring at _himself._ Himself through Steve's eyes.

Steve straightened up, grounding himself. He didn't look at the painting at first. Even though it had been quite a long time since the last time he had seen it, he still remembered in detail what it looked like, and what it felt like to look at it. In hindsight, he could admit it was good, from an artistic point of view, he was proud of it. He had been inspired when painting it and he both loved it and hated it at the same time. It represented everything Steve hated about Tony, about them, and most of all, about himself, but it also represented all the things he loved. It had been such a complex and violent and dark and agonizing moment in their lives, in their relationship. A moment which had called into question everything. A death and a rebirth. Darkness and light. The destruction and reconstruction. A turning point. He really didn't know what to think of all this, the fact that millions of people were now going to be able to witness this most private moment, no later than the next day. He'd rather not think about it. These people were going to dig into the depth of his soul and stare at his most precious and most intimate feelings. He suddenly felt naked and exposed and something twinged inside of him, something that churned and twisted his stomach. He finally gave the painting a curious glance, it still felt overwhelming. It brought back too many excruciating memories, so he looked at his boyfriend instead. Tony was frozen, lips parted and so many emotions flashing across his dark eyes, unreadable. 

Steve's heart clenched with worry. He looked at his boyfriend anxiously, his reaction had been so sudden and so unlikely. He tried to swallow, difficultly, but didn't say a thing. Tony didn't either and the silence lingered between them, heavy and full of unsaid things.

Tony stood in front of that painting for almost twenty minutes. Not a word came out from his mouth. Not even a sigh. He just stared and sometimes he squeezed Steve's hand. At some point he dropped it, just to take it again a few minutes later. Meanwhile, Steve's heart was racing in his chest.

He just wished he could hear the sound of Tony's voice again. Even just one word.

Tony squeezed hard on his hand one last time and turned around, smiling. "Interesting," he just said, evasively, and then his face brightened. His smile turning enthusiastic. "Let's go?" He suggested innocently. 

That was it.

That was the moment when Tony saw _the Fallen Angel_ —the painting everyone had been talking about for weeks. The "masterpiece" that had miraculously found its spot at the MoMA. The painting Steve had ripped away from his guts after their disastrous break-up. The one he had poured his heart and soul into, the one that meant so much for both of them.

Nothing else was said.

Tony's excited rambling resumed as soon as they were out of the room. He dragged Steve out of the museum, as if nothing had happened. He put his felt coat on enthusiastically, already going on about their dinner to come, spewing nonsense. Steve was still amazed at Tony's capability to maintain such a dense conversation for so long without ever repeating himself. Once outside, Tony pulled his black leather gloves on, his smile was spread wide on his freshened face. He took Steve's hand again, instinctively, nonchalantly, and they walked to the restaurant together, because it was just a few blocks away. Tony had quieted when they arrived. He was squeezing Steve's hand proudly and contemplated the city around them. Steve looked at him sidelong, heart fluttering. Tony looked so happy and so innocent at times. 

Dinner was perfect. Everyone had been so respectful of their privacy. Steve wondered what had scared him so much before. Tony kept talking and smiling and sometimes he stopped, took Steve's hand and entangled their fingers together, and stared into his eyes with a happy and loving gaze. Steve realized they hadn't been on a real date for months. They were both so busy and time just flew by. He missed it.

Tony had been such a gentleman, just like he liked to do sometimes. He had deposed Steve's coat on his shoulders, pressing gentle but strong hands on arms, had paid without Steve noticing, had kissed him, so softly, once they were out of sight. Steve had curled up his hand around his neck then, cold fingers pressing against the warm and shivering skin of his boyfriend. Tony had gasped and grabbed his hand, not to remove it but to warm it up, and he had smiled against Steve's lips.

Steve tiptoed and caught the back of his boyfriend's head with his other hand, so he could kiss more, and the temperature rose between them. He shoved his tongue into Tony's mouth who moaned in surprise but melted into the kiss so beautifully.

"Coming back to mine?" He whispered. 

Tony leant into him, hiding his face into his neck, and grumbled. "There is something I need to finish tonight."

Steve startled at the unexpected rejection but wrapped his arms around him and scooted closer. He searched Tony's nose, nuzzling against him. "Then I'll come back to yours." He said, although there was a tinge of insecurity in his tone.

"Sure." Tony whispered back, blowing warm air on Steve's mouth. "I'll be busy but yeah, sure, you can come." He gave Steve a little peck. "I'd be happy if you did," he added softly.

"Will I be allowed to come down to the workshop with you? I love sketching there. I love watching you when you work."

Tony chuckled. "Your presence is always welcome there, you know that." 

Steve felt something unclench in his chest. He averted his eyes and tilted his head on the side, hiding a relieved smile. He knew he was but he always asked anyway and tonight even more, he felt like he needed to ask. Maybe that was because had Tony felt oddly distant the entire evening. "Well, you could be doing some special secret stuff," he teased. "Let's say, a flying suit armor for example, who knows?"

Tony laughed out loud, throwing his head back and Steve felt a lot lighter. "Nothing of the sort I'm afraid. Just boring SI paperwork, sorry to disappoint."

Steve pretended to pout and then looked up at him with a smile. "I'll have to see for myself, though. I don't trust you." Tony just shrugged and smiled back.

The ride back to the Tower was eerily quiet. Tony was uncharacteristically silent but the tension that Steve had felt between them during the outward journey was gone. They were holding hands, never letting go of each other, and Tony's expression looked so innocent while he stared at the city outside the window that Steve couldn't help staring at him with goofy affectionate eyes. It was appeasing.

Once they arrived, they both quickly changed into more comfortable clothes. Steve had left a few in the huge closet dedicated to him in Tony's room and they did what they had to do in comfortable easiness around each other, settling into a routine that felt poignantly natural, both of them conscious of the nonverbal communication happening between them. Then Tony went down to his workshop without a word. He just brushed his fingers on Steve's cheek as he passed him when he left the bedroom. A natural and very domestic gesture that still gave Steve warm and fuzzy feelings. Steve went to the kitchen first, to make coffee, even though there was a coffee machine downstairs because the coffee from the kitchen machine tasted better and because ehe knew his boyfriend loved when Steve made his coffee.

He went down with the coffee, his sketch book and bunch of art supplies. He had some in Tony's workshop already, where he had, more or less, set up his own space, but he always feared to lack something so every time he went to Tony's workshop to draw, his stock of art supplies expanded. Not that Tony cared, Steve was never short of anything in Tower, which wasn't the case at home, he suspected JARVIS might have something to do with it. Tony had said something about it once or twice.

Steve's spot in the private workshop consisted of a comfy couch, a huge caster chair and three different reclining drawing boards. From there he could almost see the entire place, from every angle, and the lighting was perfect even if not natural. He liked this place a lot. It felt comforting and peaceful and almost home, because Tony was there too. He felt at ease down there so he could understand why his boyfriend spent so much time in the workshop, even if only to do some paperwork. 

When he entered the workshop, he made a beeline toward Tony's desk where he seemed already busy with schematics that looked very not like boring SI paperwork stuff and much more like a new technological breakthrough. He surreptitiously put the smoking cup of coffee next to him, exactly like he liked it, and attempted a hand on shoulder that he ran up along his neck and gently pressed at the joint, fingers on his collarbones, thumb brushing his shoulder blade. He leant above him in silence and brought his lips to his other ear. "I love you." He whispered softly.

Tony twitched and grabbed the hand on his shoulder to return the soft gesture. He turned his face to Steve and smiled. "Thanks." He whispered, blowing warm breath on Steve's nose. "For the coffee." And then he went back to his intricate schematics. Steve knew better than to insist. 

They both worked in the workshop in a rather lighthearted and comfortable silence. Him on his sketches, Tony on whatever it was he was doing that was important. A couple of hours later, as Steve felt himself doze off again and his eyes were tingling as he forced them open, he decided to go to bed without his boyfriend. He had been nodding off a few times while waiting for Tony to finish but apparently his boyfriend was nowhere near being done with his work tonight so he left him to it without regret. He was too exhausted for that. And it's not that it wasn't something that he was used to already. Tony always had a weird sleeping schedule. He straightened up and stretched his arms while yawning in exhaustion, walked to his boyfriend and left a soft kiss on his temple while he whispered good night to him. Tony hummed in response and mumbled a good night back. Steve's hand lingered on his shoulder and their fingers brushed as he headed out toward the glass-paned sliding doors.

Steve made a quick job of getting ready for bed and dived in delight in the soft sheets of Tony's huge bed. He felt so small in this bed. He could hide in it and was pretty sure no-one would notice, but he loved it. He loved the huge space, he loved the pillows, he loved the memory form mattress, he loved the softest of soft sheets but most of all he loved how they smelt of Tony. Steve had always had the bestest sleep in this bed with or without Tony in it. He spread like a starfish under the never-ending comforter and gazed at the empty space beside him, running a tired hand on where he could still feel Tony's shape on the mattress. He had been coming here enough for each of them to have a side now. He smiled to himself at the knowledge and looked forward to wake up next to him as he quickly fell asleep.

He was woken up only a couple of hours later, by the sound of his boyfriend showering in the bathroom. It was barely noticeable and so was the soft sliver of light coming out from the bathroom door but apparently Steve's sleep wasn't as deep as he had been pretending when his boyfriend wasn't next to him. He rubbed his eyes, blinking them open, and propped himself on one elbow while Tony walked out of the bathroom door, ethereal in a cloud of steam. He was in his pajamas and attempted to dry his unruly hair with the towel hanging from his shoulders. He tossed it on one of the armchairs and fetched a hoodie who'd been lying there. 

"Tony?" Steve croaked out, voice raspy with sleep. Tony turned to him, eyes glowing in the dark. "You're not coming to bed?"

"I'm just going out for a smoke on the terrace, I'll be back. I didn't mean to wake you up, I'm sorry, babe... You can go back to sleep."

Steve hesitated for a moment, trying to discern the shape of the man he loved in the dark. "Okay." He finally said before dropping his head on the pillow and closing his eyes again.

Except... 

Except he couldn't sleep. Something tingled in his chest, a hint at something, something that stirred anguish in the deepest part of Steve's heart. The scene hadn't been unusual, although peculiar, but there was something a little off about it. And Steve realized he missed his boyfriend, tremendously. And since he couldn't sleep anymore, he jumped out of bed, picked up a button-down sweater in Tony's closet, one that was too big for him but smelt like Tony, and he slid the glass-pane leading to the terrace open.

The night breeze was cool and freshened up his face. He shivered and closed his eyes as he breathed in and opened them up while he puffed out warm fume. Tony was leaning on the railing, the white curls of smoke dancing around him. Everything was peaceful up here, so high from the swarming of the city's nightlife. Steve felt a sting, just like he sometimes did when he got a glimpse of Tony lost in his thought, and came to the heavy realization that he was head over heels with this man. It still happened. He still had that feelings sometimes, his heart clenched and a wave of love and affection overwhelmed him as if he was falling in love again.

He gazed at the V of his back hunched over the railing, contemplating the pensive expression on his face. He could only see a quarter of his face but could distinguish his characteristic pout on his lips and the red dot of the cigarette bud in his hand shining in the eerie night. He seemed to let it waste away rather than smoke it. Steve shuddered and wrapped himself in the jumper while he joined him. He grabbed the iron bar, resisting the urge to snuggle against him, somehow sensing that it wasn't the right moment for it. He was standing at a distance, leaving space between them not to be overbearing, but close enough to feel his warmth still.

He breathed in and took a look at the outstanding view to find some courage before opening his mouth to speak. "Are you alright, babe?" He attempted hesitatingly.

Tony didn't react when Steve made his presence known, he had probably heard him coming but he didn't acknowledge it either way. "I'm fine." He mumbled as a response, without looking at him. He was still staring into space, his cigarette smoking itself away, close to burning his fingers.

Steve remained silent, not knowing what to say yet. Maybe he was trying not to say something stupid that would lead to an unnecessary fight between them. He could feel the tension rising between them though and Tony's shoulder blades inconspicuously tensed. Steve clutched the iron bar till it hurt. He felt an uncomfortable shiver running down his spine. The silence suddenly heavy between them.

Tony brought his cigarette to his mouth and inhaled the last drag before pinching the butt away over the railing, something he _never_ did. "Why did you sell it?" He suddenly asked as he sighed the smoke out.

Aaaand there it was...

That thing Steve had felt all evening but was unable to put a finger on. That thing that had loomed over them, unsaid, putrefying, _for weeks_. He felt a pang in his chest and parted his lips in silence, caught off guard.

He had nothing to say for himself, except that today had been a fucking rollercoaster of emotions and he couldn't even describe how he felt about the whole thing. He just... He hadn't wanted to acknowledge them. Everything had been going fine, the whole evening had been perfect. They had been happy, even if in the back of his head he knew that something had been off all along. But now everything was coming back to him like a fucking boomerang, and the question could have been innocent, for anyone else, but the tone... The tone was biting, just like Tony could, sometimes, hurt you in the deepest part of your soul with simple words thrown unexpectedly at your face, as hard and cold as frozen stones.

Steve didn't answer and just stepped back from the railing, suddenly needing the distance. 

Tony turned around and leant back against the railing, hands grabbing the iron bar behind him. He stared right at Steve and there was no gentleness in those eyes. "Was it that important to you? Buying your own place?" Steve froze, heart clenching. The rough coldness of his tone was like a punch in the guts. "That you needed to sell your _soul_ for it?"

He stared at his boyfriend, taken aback, trying to decipher his thoughts behind the heinous glare he was throwing at him. His words were stuck in his throat. He looked away, feeling the shame creeping on his face. His heart was racing. "I didn't sell it for the money..." He choked out, each words scorching his throat as he uttered them.

"Then why?" Tony asked, out of breath, a certain desperation coating his voice.

"I didn't sell it for the money... " Steve repeated, looking at his feet. "I just... I needed to get rid of it. I needed it out of my life. I needed a change, I needed to move on. And yeah, I got this offer, and I saw it as an opportunity, two birds with one stone. You're a practical guy, you should know how to seize an opportunity when there's one. And I felt... I felt _validated_ as an artist, too. No-one else had ever wanted to buy my art before. I mean no-one I didn't know and... And I didn't wanna sell it at first but then, I..." The words died down on his tongue before he could say them, maybe he didn't believe himself in what he was saying. He felt the tears prickle at the corner of his eyes but smothered them and swallowed down the lump in his throat. "You wouldn't understand anyway." 

"No, I _don't!"_ Tony almost yelled. "I don't understand."

"It doesn't mean anything to you but I've always wanted to be able to live from my art and I needed a new place and I... You're _unfair,_ Tony. How could you ever relate? You have no fucking idea what it's like to struggle to survive. How can you? You've always had everything you needed."

"I would have helped you."

" _I don't want your money_."

Tony shook his head in despise. "You have a job, you're successful. You could have asked for a loan, just like a normal person, if you didn't wanna come to me."

"What is so fucking wrong with me selling my work? _I'm an artist,_ Tony. Of course there's a bit of me in everything I do. That's what art's about. Just like there's a little part of you in everything you create. You should know..."

Tony quieted and studied him for a moment, a tinge of disdain in his pout. "Some of my creations I keep for myself..." He finally said in a falsely calm and bitter tone. 

"You don't want my money, you _refuse_ that I buy your art, or help with your career, but you're fine with _this?"_ He carried on, tone resolutely reproachful. "You're fine with exposing _us?_ _Us,_ our intimacy, our story, the _worst_ part of it, to the entire world? For a _fucking_ _apartment?"_ He paused, staring right into Steve's eyes, pain distorting his expression. His chest was heaving erratically. "Just for the sake of saying you could do this on your own." He muttered and Steve looked down in shame.

 _"The hell with your fucking pride, Steve!"_ Tony yelled, his tone as cruel as his words. Steve felt each of them slaying his skin. "I hope you choke on it!" Tony added, voice shivering. 

"I'm not fine with it." Steve finally admitted in a calm voice while trying to settle his heart to a none life-threatening rhythm. "It wasn't supposed to be like this..." He tried to justify. "How could I ever know?"

Tony glared, nostrils flaring. "How could you have _not_ known?" He spat bitterly, words as cold and biting as the freezing winter breeze. "Why didn't you fucking tell me? I could have prevented this. You're always complaining that I'm not telling you things but what should I say about you? How many more skeletons are there in your closet?"

Steve held his stare, a mix of shame and anger roiling inside of him. He pinched his lips to keep his rage inside. "Well if that bothers you so much then, why don't you buy it from them? And do whatever you want with it!"

Tony's eyes opened wide for a split second before he burst out laughing. "Are you serious?"

Steve stared at him, chest heaving, and realized how much he hoped Tony would. How much he hated that everyone was going to be able to see that painting. How much he regretted selling it and how much he wanted it back. 

Tony stared back, quiet, lips parted. Steve knew he could see right through him and it made him uncomfortable. "No, I won't." He said curtly and paused to let it sink in, purposely being mean. "If you want your painting back then buy it yourself!"

Steve ignored the pang in his chest and swallowed the lump forming in his throat. He felt his eyes prickle. Never before Tony had been so hard and inflexible with him. He felt like he was in front of another person. He breathed in a shuddering sigh.

"You know I can't do that." He said, averting his eyes. His voice sounding raspy with shame and bitter disappointment.

"And you think _I_ can?"

Steve shrugs. "It's small beer for you."

"Hundreds of millions, Steve. That's hardly small beer, for anyone. I don't have that kind of cash. SI's money's not mine. It's for investment, and research, and functioning. I can't just throw it away on a whim." 

Steve pouted and stared at his boyfriend sidelong, unjustly annoyed. " 'course you can," He muttered with a tinge of spite in his voice. "Don't take me for a fool. Even without SI you can..."

The fire in Tony's eyes flared. _"You don't want me involved in anything!"_ He yelled. "You don't wanna have anything to do with SI, or my money. You don't even want to _live_ with me. You can't reject everything I am and then ask me to spend hundreds of million bucks to clean up your mess. That's too easy, Steve. You're a _fucking hypocrite!"_

True.

Steve felt his cheeks burn, Tony had a point. He stared at him silently. 

"This really isn't about the painting, is it?" He finally said in a disillusioned tone. 

Tony tensed against the railing and looked away. He took the pack of cigarette that was in the pocket of his hoodie, flicked one to his mouth, the lighter in his other hand, and lit it. Steve wondered if it was an attempt at a distraction, a blatant show of indifference, or if he genuinely needed to calm his nerves. 

He took a drag and looked at Steve again, hands back on the iron bar, as he puffed out the smoke in Steve's direction. "I don't know... _You_ tell me." He whispered.

"I thought we agreed." Steve tried, voice faltering and heart pounding in his chest. "That we were gonna buy something together."

Tony smiled mirthlessly, looking down. "Yeah... and that was _months_ ago." 

A shudder ran through him and he pushed his hands down his pocket to steady himself. "That's because we haven't found the right place, yet..."

"Haven't we?" Tony asked. _"Bullshit,_ Steve! I've found at least _ten_ buildings that matched our criteria. They needed renovating, yeah, maybe, but you didn't even _try_ to consider it." Tony's eyes were burning with a dark glow and his features were hard and untouchable. "I'm really starting to wonder if that's the place that's not right..." He hissed.

The blow was hard and Steve's breathing was cut short. He let his mouth hang open and felt his cheeks flush again. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, Steve. Do you really want to live with me?"

Steve swallowed, looking down, face flushed. "Fine!" He surrendered. "I'll move in." He blurted out, determinedly. "In the Tower. Tomorrow. I'll pick up my stuff and move in. I don't have much to bring anyway."

"Fuck _no,_ Steve!" Tony refused angrily. "You're not moving in out of _guilt!_ This is the last thing I want..."

Steve looked at him in despair and wondered how things had turned so badly so quickly. They were fine, they were happy just hours ago and now everything was falling apart. A freezing shudder ran down his spine. 

Tony was looking at him, waiting for a sign, expression hopeful. Steve was incapable of giving him one. "So we didn't make it through another year after all..." His boyfriend finally said, looking away, hurt so very visible on his face this time.

Steve's chest constricted in a tremor. He gasped out a shuddering breath. The lump in his throat made it difficult to even breathe. He wasn't able to repress his tears this time and he felt them flow down his cheeks. "Tony..." He managed to choke out, vision blurry, heart racing in his chest. "Are you breaking up with me?"

A flash of pain ran through his boyfriend's eyes. "No." He let out, bluntly. "Are _you?"_

Steve sniffled, trying to calm himself down and answer but he was too shaken up to control anything anymore. He felt his entire body shudder and broke down. It was ugly and Tony put his cigarette away and walked to him. He put a comforting hand on his shoulder and the sole presence of him beside him was already relieving. Steve could feel his warmth now and felt already better.

"I don't wanna break up with you, Steve." Tony admitted, voice sounding hurt. "You're the one—" His voice faltered, broken at the edges. "You're the only person I wanna spend the rest of my life with—" He stopped, expression suddenly worried. Steve's heart leapt as the "rest of my life" words slipped out of his boyfriend's mouth. He stared up at Tony with wide open eyes, short of words. His boyfriend's face was crestfallen, afraid he had said too much, too early.

Steve closed the distance between them and grabbed the lapels of Tony's hoodie before burying his head into the warmth of his chest. Tony wrapped his arms around Steve and sighed in relief. "I'd like to sign up for another year, please." He mumbled, voice muffled in the fabric of Tony's pajamas. 

He felt Tony's chest rumble and shake with relieved laughter. 

"I'm so sorry, Tony." He whispered. "I should have told you about that painting. I just... I was scared how you would react and I... Frankly, I really just wanted to forget about it. Get it out of my life. I never thought it would just turn up in the worst possible way..."

Tony chuckled. He grabbed his face in his hands and plunged his eyes into his. "It's just an angel with my face." He whispered with a smile. "And for what it's worth," he added, "it's really a _masterpiece._ I loved it."

Steve smiled at the compliment, despite himself.

"So you're not gonna buy it?"

Tony grinned. "I told you, I won't. "Take fucking responsibility!" 

Steve pouted in slight disappointment but after the wreck they had just avoided, it just didn't feel that important anymore. He snuggled against Tony, grabbing everything he could so he wouldn't escape. "I love you, Tony." He whispered. "Please, don't give up on me."

Tony kissed him in response and carried him up, lifting him like he was a doll. Steve curled his legs around his waist and kissed him back, claiming everything he could from him.

Tony carried him back to the bedroom and please forgive him if he just liquified with want when he realized his boyfriend was strong enough to carry him with one arm while the other slid the patio door open. They both collapsed on the bed and Steve's body was burning and shaking with desire.

He wasn't a fool to think that mind-blowing make up sex would be enough to fix all of their problems but at least they were still doing this thing together and the rest they would figure out in time. Steve was ready to compromise and he wasn't giving up, despite everything. He was terrified but he wasn't giving up.

Tony had shifted onto his stomach, claiming his space on the huge bed. He was dozing off, although he looked pensive still. Steve was wide awake however. He turned on his side and brushed his fingers up and down Tony's spine. His boyfriend imperceptibly shivered. 

"You scare me sometimes." Steve said.

Tony hummed questioningly, voice sounding exhausted. 

"How ruthless and intransigent you can be..." He explained. "Sometimes, I feel like I'm dealing with your father."

Tony startled and turned around, facing Steve. He brushed a hand down Steve's cheek. "I'm not him." He whispered, staring into Steve's eyes trying to convince himself more than convince Steve, and then his expression changed, growing insecure.

"Is this really how you see me, though?" He blurted after a moment of awkward silence. His eyes were wide open now and expecting. And Steve knew he wasn't talking about his dad anymore.

Steve looked down, looking for the right words. He wetted his lips. "It's not." He finally answered. "It might have been true, in the past, but I really was in a bad place then. It was just my way of getting over you, I guess. But I also had a lot of issues to deal with and not everything was about you. I—" He paused, running a soft and comforting hand on his boyfriend's cheek. "I guess it's more about overcoming a dark period of my life than about how I really see you, or saw you then..."

Tony didn't say anything but he nodded slowly and planted a kiss on Steve's hand before he turned around and slumped on the mattress. "Steve?" He mumbled softly, head buried in the pillows. "Please, don't ever let me become my father."


End file.
